


Bad Business Habits

by AsheeChaos



Category: Original Work
Genre: Belly Kink, Inflation, POV First Person, POV Male Character, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-10-26 01:17:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10776438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsheeChaos/pseuds/AsheeChaos
Summary: A businessman with a perfectly normal life has a few bad habits. They lead to rather unfortunate circumstances.Rating and tags give away anything else. That is how you found this. It's what it says on the label.





	1. Chapter 1

At 7 am sharp, my alert rang.  
It was a normal Wednesday morning - at least according to my watch, I was not exactly aware of my surroundings before my first coffee - and I stumbled into the bathroom to take a quick, cold morning shower.  
Like I said, not enough to wake me, but at least I felt cleaner.  
My hair dried with a few towel rubs. Even if I should cut it again. It hung almost into my eyes if I didn't gel it back.  
I dressed in slacks and a blue button-up shirt and looked me up and down in the full body mirror. They still fit perfectly, despite the stress and unhealthy eating in the last weeks. Why was everyone going insane when management reviews approached, seriously? It's not like they could seriously change the numbers in the last couple of days.  
But alright, I rubbed my eyes and went to the kitchen. The smell of coffee wafted over to me and I smiled. On the counter stood a thermos with a post it attached to it: 'Don't forget that coffee is not actual food. Love you! See you in the evening!' was written on it, signed with a lipstick kiss in dark red. Next to the thermos rested a bag of proper sandwiches.  
I packed my lunch - including my wife's note - with a smile and poured me a cup from our own french press set, it just tastes better. I sat down and slowly sipped my coffee, enjoying my last moments of quiet solitude in the morning. Then I grabbed my phone and answered my first messages of the day. People not showing up, problems with the software, other branches of the company complaining about members of my project, members of my project complaining about employees from other branches... I was rather glad voice to text worked so well by now, I told my watch what to answer to each and every one of them. Only once I had to correct the wording.  
So I already got some work done when I got into my shoes and tied them. It was truly a slight miracle of science.  
At exactly 8 o clock - like every morning - , I opened the garage door and I stretched. The gurgle that my belly gave me was new. Maybe I should start to believe my little notes and actually eat an egg or something...  
Ah well. It was a thought for another day. For now, I climbed into my car and ignored the little noises. Maybe Subway was not a truly healthy choice after all. Well, it calmed down after a little bit, just a slight pressure remained, so I would go look for some antacid and see how that would go.  
Traffic was bearable, there weren't many phone calls and I could even listen to some Puccini on my way to work, all in all, it was a good morning. Even London traffic didn't put a damper on my mood.  
So, when I entered the building at nine, my smile when I greeted our receptionist was genuine.  
I grabbed the notes left in my tray and disappeared into my office, making the healthier choice to bring a glass of water to flush down the antacid. Then... I concentrated on my work.  
Checking my office mail, creating spreadsheets, adding numbers to tax balances, checking if all the ordered supplies had come in... the general routine. A boss of mine demanded for a conference in two hours. I'd have to defend my project once again. Ah well.  
I just hoped my stomach would calm down before it started. A proper sandwich - turkey and yogurt sauce - and another glass would hopefully fix it. The calculations would distract me.  
...  
They did distract me... for the wrong reasons (missing evidence for the claims), but... it did not get better. It actually felt like it got worse. When I tried to calm it down by pressing on it, it actually felt _full_. I was starting to be a little concerned. Maybe the mayonnaise on the sub had been bad? It grumbled again when I sat up for the actual conference. I needed to calm my worry down. It was nothing to worry _about_ , I had a stomach of steel.  
So the conference started. And I got through it, smiled at my superior, at my colleagues, explained our situation, addressed every complaint, agreed to the necessary paperwork, applied for another assignment, all was going perfectly well. I simply... moved in my chair.  
I felt uncomfortable. Still full. I _did_ want to rather lay down for a while. I felt like I had eaten too much. My colleague even commented on my discomfort. I reassured her it was nothing. She still told me to take care.  
Well, I guessed a bit of water in my face would clear my head.  
In the bathroom I washed my face and checked myself in the mirror. I didn't have my telltale shade that spoke volumes of food poisoning... the only thing wrong with my face was a deep frown between my eyes. When I looked down, though?  
... I could have _sworn_ my shirt had fit better this morning.  
My body had apparently only been kind in the very early hours of the day. As I should have known. I did not get younger, after all. I huffed. Even my pants feeling a bit tight. Ah, just as well, it was my running day anyway.  
I ran my hand over it... and didn't really want to lose my frown. It was somewhat tighter than I remembered it being. Even if I overate myself.  
I shook my head, I was seeing things. Back to work! Actually doing something against those complaints the other places had with us. No problem there.  
Only slightly uncomfortable. A slightly straining shirt was not unknown in the office. I was not the only one sporting one. I was simply the only one usually able to dress oneself.  
The stress was simply getting to me.  
I would go through the next hours without problem. And then get home and do something against this heavy feeling.  
...  
I did not go through these next few hours without a problem.  
Actually, at 2 pm, I felt like I had emptied the entire water cooler. Felt like it was strapped to my front, too.  
I had retreated into my office, a particularly loud sound from my stomach had alerted my secretary and I excused myself to sit down in my chair.  
As soon as I sat down, my pants felt unbearably tight.  
I did not even know where that came from! I had NOT eaten something since before the conference. Had not even touched my coffee. And still, I could barely get my fingers under my pants button to open it.  
When I did, I felt so much better, I actually let out a relieved sigh.  
I literally sank into the fabric.  
And I had the feeling I sank deeper in than usual. Because I actually felt like I swallowed a bowling ball. Just heavier.  
It was... somewhat horrifying?  
I looked down and actually could not see my whole body.  
My... my belly stuck out enough for me to not... see my body completely.  
And now that I sat there and stared for about thirty seconds... the comparison to a bowling ball was not that far fetched. I mean... more evenly spread, but... that... seemed about right.  
I did not remember swallowing a bowling ball.  
As soon as this thought had entered and left my mind, I realised that was the way madness lays, so I stopped thinking about disproportionally unhealthy eating habits.  
I still frowned down at this... unswallowed ball... and didn't even know what to do. This... this was ridiculous.  
In my confusion, I tried to press it down, I mean... my _shirt was straining_. What in the world was I supposed to be doing?! With my pants open, hiding behind my desk.  
The desk was the only thing to keep me from prying eyes, too. I never had regretted those glass walls more in my life. Usually, I was all for it, being able to see the others and they should see how I worked. But today?  
Today I thought steel walls might have been too see through.  
Lost in thoughts that were not entirely sane, I... I pressed down on the middle of my body and... gasped?  
I couldn't even do something about it. But I'm pretty sure my cheeks coloured, too.  
It was still... very firm. And didn't have all too much give.  
Hell, when I sat and pulled up to the desk, it was actually squished.  
Again, to clarify... when I scooted up to my ergonomic table on my ergonomic chair, belly bumped against the plate, my skin indented and I did not fit properly it under my table. I... needed to lower my chair. I needed to actually... sit a bit hunched over. Which was _terrible_ for posture, too.  
Because posture was the worst of my problem right now.  
Of course.  
I did not know what I had done to deserve that.  
When I checked my one true suspect - the antacid - it turned out to be just that: medicine. I really had no idea what was happening.  
But here I was... and I could not do much about it at all.  
When it was four o clock, the button in the very middle of my shirt... popped off.  
It simply sprung off my body.  
I was sitting there, minding my own presentation, shifting in my lowered chair... and my button popped off.  
I don't know if it was the fact itself or the relief I felt at a bit more space that appalled me more...  
When I looked down, 'bowling' didn't come to mind anymore.  
'Medizine' was more accurate. Like... the 12 pounders. That you were supposed to throw and they basically just... dropped down half a meter away. Since we were at humiliating experiences already. This was a good comparison. Good and equally unhealthy.  
Exactly that was the deciding moment: I apparently was in distress physically _and_ mentally and I could not possibly stay at work. Hell, if my shirt did not stay on, I could not stay in.  
Obviously, this situation was not getting any better, but quite obviously worse.  
Before I lost every single bit of dignity I had to leave.  
Lord, I stumbled when I got up. I was not used to have... I wasn't usually off balance. Like this. I just... wanted to hide away from the world. And, in this situation? It was exactly what I would do.  
I grabbed my briefcase and held it in front of me, excusing myself with an appointment to a doctor to my secretary... and left.  
I prayed to god that my pants would not be slipping, because... well... because I had been unable to close them. Literally. I had tried - honestly tried - but I hadn't even been able to get the lapels to touch each other. I... I did not want to think about that.  
And for once - once in my life - god listened. Because I got out of the building without any pants-related humiliation.  
I had tried to walk out nonchalantly, had tried to behave like this was any other day.  
And then I had stumbled. And there had been people sending suspicious glances my way.  
Because of cause that happened. How could it not.  
When our receptionist had wished me a good day, she had sounded concerned. My walk out the building was so much less pleasant than the walk in.  
I hadn't been that humiliated in my entire life. Getting into the car was actually a slight problem. I wobbled on my feet, almost fell into the car!  
I... then actually turned my butt towards the seat... sat down... and awkwardly shuffled into driving position, one leg after the other lifted into it. I had to readjust my seat! I had to _lean backwards when driving_.  
It was a disaster.  
While I crawled over the street in agonising speed, I sat there and the _second_ button popped off and then I... I just opened my shirt. I didn't need to lose any more buttons. I saw I had a problem. A serious problem. I didn't need any more reminders.  
It took me half an hour longer than usual until I was _finally_ home. In the security of my garage. No prying eyes, nothing.  
On the other hand? Getting out of the car was just as bad as the reverse had been.  
If not worse, actually. The roof needed to be used as a handle to pull myself out. My gut pulled me down until I stood,halfway secure in my balance.  
I ground my teeth together and turned to get a better grip in the roof itself. I leaned against the car, then just laid this strange mass that was still _very_ attached to me onto the hood, because keeping the balance was - while possible - still stupidly hard.  
Then I finally got around to grab my keys and briefcase. I'd taken them out with me and I was rather glad about that. Sure I could still have gotten them out - I could still move and everything -, but... it would have been uncomfortable. And I didn't want to find out what might have happened if I actually collided with a hard surface. The skin was too unnaturally tight!  
It wasn't supposed to be like that.  
With a frown, I went into my actual house.  
I'd like to say I walked. But really, if was more of a waddle. I kept my pants up with one hand and used the other for everything else. I finally dropped them in the bathroom - I had not remembered the way to be that long.  
Even stepping out of the treacherous piece of clothing was a wobbly maneuver. I truly did not want to think about how wrong that was.  
I only wanted to lay down. I wanted to lay down and hope for this to go away. Go away as fast as possible.  
But... I knew I had to face my problems. Especially one as... big as that.  
I shook my head. Sanity had slipped away for a second again. This should not become a habit.  
Then I shook off my shirt and put both it and my pants on the valet stand - this much dignity needed to be preserved. Don't ask me how awkward it felt to feel the middle of my body being squished when I leaned down. I shouldn't be able to squish my own bloody body without even meaning to!  
I can not describe how weird this felt. Truly. _truly_ weird. Not thinking about it seemed the best option.  
I... grabbed my morning robe and pulled it over my shoulders.  
I left it open, slowly wal-... waddling into the bedroom... and stepped in front of my mirror again.  
Like I had done in the morning.  
What I saw... was... not the same as it had been then. My... my waistline had doubled. I... this was a nightmare.  
When I looked at it now, it still was a medicine ball. But maybe one of the twenty pounders? A gymnastics ball?! A small one?  
Turning did not make it better. I... still had a feeling that I swallowed a ball. Only that I had not actually done so. And that I considered the option told me enough about a certain habit getting worse.  
My... my arms and legs were fine. But my belly felt like it was filled. Completely filled up. And now it could burst any moment.  
Pressing on it made me shiver.  
I sat down on the bed, horrified. This was all a disaster. I could barely properly close my robe.  
Let alone my training clothes. Doing something against this 'heavy feeling' would not happen. I could barely walk, let alone run. My watch complained already.  
I looked over to my wife's side of the bed.  
Good god, what would _she_ say to all of this?!


	2. Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wife comes home. They both aren't too responsible.

The living room was mostly quiet, while I waited.   
Except for the clock over the kitchen door. It was ticking away. Not that it had an actual clockwork, but it was designed to tick like it had one. More comforting.   
My wife had picked it during our honeymoon. I had raised a brow at it, but she had insisted I had the right to drown out the noises in any way I wanted. And had kissed me. Her hair had smelled of jasmine. She had squeezed ass. And when I looked down in her warm, brown eyes, which held just the right amount of mischief, and looked at these smirking, slightly wet lips? I really didn't want to deny her anything. Every time I hear a clock tcking - and especially this one - I think of her.   
And smile.  
But any moment now, the keys would turn in the lock, and she would come home. And I was nothing but worried.   
I'd laid down on the sofa. It was infinitely better than the dark of the bedroom, really. It had been depressing.   
I... probably wouldn't have a medical emergency. Since whatever happened to me seemed to have... calmed down.   
It still felt awkward and uncomfortable, but the gymnastic ball was still one and it hasn't gotten any worse, as far as I could tell.   
Not that is was not bad enough: while I carefully waddled over, I put my hands under it to support it.   
'It'. I called my own... middle part of my body... an 'it'. 'It' barely existed this morning. Just how in the world would I explain this to her.   
At least running my hand over it helped slightly with soothing the tight feeling and kept me from actually panicking.   
I listened to the clock and guessed that these might be the 'bad times' the priest had been talking about. I just hoped they would not be too bad for her.   
When the lock did click, I started enough to almost fall down the sofa. I didn't want to think about how this would have ended.   
The next thing I saw after I had straightened myself again, was the open door to the living room.   
And my wonderful wife stood there, bag on the floor. A bag full of Indian food.   
Of course. Day shift. She brought Indian on Wednesdays, then, because everyone was too tired to properly cook on Wednesdays.   
Day shift was good for our sleeping schedule, but otherwise... it was the busiest time of the day, naturally.   
When I was through my thoughts of distraction I finally dared to look at my wife, who still... stood there. And looked something between shocked and suspicious, eyes flitting over me.  
… maybe I should have given her a warning after all? I hadn't wanted to worry her, but-  
“Hey... how are you?,” she said. And that... was her patient-voice. Her 'I need to assess the situation, don't worry, I am friendly'-voice. I usually hear it when I have a mouth full of chicken soup. While laying around uselessly.   
“I... have been better?,” because really, what can I say?  
“Hm,” was the answer. Her eyebrows – thin lines that they were – knitted together.   
I didn't like worrying her. And smiled unhappily when she came closer. Maybe apologetic? I tried.   
She knelt down next to the sofa and proceeded to look worried. And tired. Her lips a tight, unhappy line.   
A few seconds of eye-contact, then she looked... down. And reached out to touch. Then hesitated: “Does... does it hurt?”  
“Eh? Ah... no, no, it's fine. Just... just feels... tight, heavy... kinda stretched out? The skin, I mean,” didn't know what else I could mean, but... well, that's it, right?   
She looked at me with a frown and then shrug- nodded and muttered under her breath: “I sure as hell hope so”  
Whatever that meant. Probably because I was usually allergic to doctors, and: “Uh, I would have gone to the hospital if it had hurt!”  
“Really? Would you?,” she sounded sharp and tense and I guesses I maybe should have gone to the hospital after all and-  
She sighed, loudly, dropped all tension for a second and then brushed her hair back from her face.  
“I'm... sorry. I know you... are most comfortable home and probably panicked. You went in circles with your thoughts and didn't really think of solutions, mh?,” she had returned her attention to my body in general.   
That... was not true: “I thought you could help, as a nurse and all. And it didn't hurt,” so... this... sounded like I had busted open my knee and not doubled in circumference. Now that she said that, I REALLY should have done everything to get help and not worry her so mu-  
“DON'T overthink it, love. You... are comfortable. And not in pain. And... I'll check you now, you're right. We'll... we'll see. For now... think about, what... how you are with... well, with your belly?”  
I frowned lightly.   
And she kissed my forehead: “Be right back!”  
She went to the bathroom. And I... was left behind.   
My hands went to my stomach... and I... thought...  
I... was... uncomfortable, but otherwise... fine?  
Moving my hands over the tight skin was... alright? It always felt a little... heavy. Breathing was a little bit more difficult. And I knew moving was difficult... with... the different distribution of weight and... well... I was a little bit afraid to eat or drink anything.   
Otherwise... I am... worried about what my wife might think. And... for now? I... made it worse. I believe.   
I might have looked unhappy when she came back with the sphygmomanometer.   
She squeezed my hand.  
“So?,” she asked, wrapping the sleeve around my arm.   
“I... am worried about what you think”  
“... I am disappointed that you really think the flu and something like, well, this... is just... the same. And that's... really, it concerns me”  
She switched on the blood pressure thing and it was buzzing up.   
I looked at her, lips slightly twisted.  
My answer came while the gadget huffed and loosened it's grip on my arm: “... I simply have a lot of faith in my wife”  
She looked at the display, frowned, and then shrugged, put it away and started to check my pulse: “You... are too okay with this, love. Way too okay”  
She didn't sound mad, though.   
“... it's not like I did anything... or could have done anything... and... really, I couldn't go anywhere like... this,” here I poked the ball-shaped part of my body.  
She looked at it.   
And stuffed a thermometer in my mouth, if I wanted or not.  
Then her attention turned to... it, and she stared for a bit, then: “... can I touch it?”  
I shrugged, mumbling 'sure' around the not-yet-beeping gadget.   
“Mh,” she carefully moved her hand over my robed belly, I barely felt it. Then she slipped under the fabric, moving in circles.  
It... didn't exactly feel like a... medical examination?  
“...how does that feel?,” she asked, lightly pressing on the skin.  
And in that moment, a tiny sigh escaped.  
She let go of me immediately, hands up: “Does it hurt?”  
“...,” I gesticulated, she looked upset.  
The thermometer beeped and I took it out: “I... it doesn't. No, not... really, no”  
The temperature seemed to be fine, since she stole the thing and then put it away: “I... are you sure it does not hurt?”  
I nodded, slightly looking away.  
“O...kay... you'll tell me, yes? If anything hurts?,” her hands were back. And I nodded.  
She moved about all over my middle section. That... didn't usually take all too long. But now? She actually had to open her arms to actually... well... touch the whole... belly.   
I might have blushed slightly. It was... I mean... it wasn't my fault. But it was still embarrassing.   
“It... it doesn't hurt, no,” I bit my lip.   
And then she LEANED on me.  
And I gasped.   
I... it... this whole thing was... rather inappropriate.  
“I... guess you are not in pain... yes?,” she... was slightly blushing as well.  
Ah. It... was rather strange to get... squished... like this. With all the weight it was... it was weirder.  
“I'm not, no... I... no, I'm not in pain,” I shook my head.  
“I... alright,” she nodded, and moved her hand over my belly a few times, then: “I... guess for now it is... alright. I... you should probably eat and drink something, still. See how it goes, yes?  
She raised her brows.  
“... we... probably should try,” I nodded.  
And I would lay here for a while. And ignore the weight pressing on... anything. I'll just keep on laying here.  
“We'll go to a doctor tomorrow”  
I nodded.  
I... was not sure how this day would end.

**Author's Note:**

> I got bribed to write this with self-made Sushi.  
> It was very, very delicious Sushi. 
> 
> I was told the pay was adequate. Judge for yourself. If it was, if it wasn't... if the tags were a horrible lie or if I deserve no fishy goodness ever again... I guess I would be interested to hear what's your opinion? (especially everything that is wrong with this)  
> Thank you very much for reading. I hope your day is just as nice as mine had been :)


End file.
